


12/21

by godeatgod



Category: Silent Hill (Video Game Series)
Genre: Can be read as both platonic and romantic, Character Death, Drowning, Fictional Religion & Theology, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Murder, Religious Fanaticism, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:34:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26705326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/godeatgod/pseuds/godeatgod
Summary: The victims of the ritual of the 21 sacrements are never set in stone, in this attempt Walters 12th victim has changed identities, now being a man he once met all those years ago, while waiting for his mother in South Ashfield Heights.
Relationships: Walter Sullivan & James Sunderland, Walter Sullivan/James Sunderland
Comments: 7
Kudos: 13





	12/21

**Author's Note:**

> Always thought the connection these two almost shared would be interesting, so here's an alternate end to silent hill 2 before it even begins

"Stop." A voice in the darkness froze James in his tracks, one hand still reaching for the lightswitch, the door still partially open so the light from the hallway bathed a slice of his apartment in a dull orange light, not enough to see where the voice had come from.

“Would you kindly close the door.” the voice asked, rather politely. This voice, a man presumably based on the tone, was so soft and almost peaceful he couldn't help the desire to listen. James, terrified but unsure of what other choice he had, closed the door.

“Thank you.” the voice said, “would you turn the light on? 

James once again did as he was told and was greeted with the cocking of a gun, he slowly turned to face the intruder, hands raised to slightly above chest level trying to find his voice and figure out what exactly to say, heart thumping violently, ironically feeling more alive now then he had in two years. 

The man sitting on the couch was nobody James recognized, he was massive and wore a large blue trench coat stained with blood, with long scraggly blonde hair, and an unnervingly peaceful smile. He had a pistol in one hand and a large hammer resting by his side on James’ couch. James tried to process what the hell was happening, what he was supposed to say, how to now plead for his life.

“Hey-hey listen...i don't..i don't know who you are,” James started, taking a small step forward hands still in front of him, “or what you need-or how..how you got in but listen. If you need m-money or anything like that you...you can have it i...i don't have a lot but…”

“Oh no. i don't need your money.” the man replied simply, as if James had just offered it to a homeless man and not to someone currently threatening his life. He said nothing more. 

“Uhm ok well...what do you want then.” James fumbled somewhat,more scared, he couldn't defend himself, he had nothing on him or even in his house, the keys to his car would do just about nothing even if he managed to get any closer, and of course this man had a gun. His hand was steady, and James’ was not.

“Hard to say. Hard to say.” the man sighed deeply, "You know, We've met before though."

"Oh..have we, i-i'm sorry I don't remember.."

"No, I don't think you would." The man interrupted. “It was so long ago.” James didn't know how to answer him, or continue talking to him, hell he had no idea why he'd apologized to him for not remembering him. He really didn't, the man's face was completely unfamiliar to him, and unlike many people James was sure he'd remember a person like this.

"You used to live in South Ashfield Heights." The man said suddenly, It wasn't framed as a question but rather was a statement. 

"I..yeah i..I did. I grew up there." James frowned even more puzzled than before, how did he know that? How could he have? Before he could ask the man, he sighed and began speaking again. 

"I wish I'd met you again sooner. Maybe you could have let me into the room, I could've seen my mother. Maybe this could've turned out differently." he said quietly. 

"The...the room?" James was baffled yet somehow he thought he recognized the idea of someone's mother trapped in some room of some kind. It was so vague he couldn't be certain. 

"We were friends James." the man said, ignoring James’ questioning tone.

"I...i am sorry-i wish...i did remember..." James murmured, he didn't think he'd remember regardless but the stress of the situation wasn't helping.

"That's alright. It was a long time ago." he repeated with a sigh. James, curious in spite of himself, worked up the courage to try and ask him about it. He seemed somewhat out of it, and James sort of figured he was mentally unwell, if he’d wanted to kill James wouldn't he have done it already?

“What's your name?”

“Walter. Walter Sullivan.” he replied simply. James had to wonder why he would be so open about it. 

"Where did...did I meet you? When even?” James tried yet again to try and place where this man might have been familiar to him, but couldn't remember anything no matter what he tried. 

“We met many years ago, in those apartments. We used to play around the halls and avoid some of the adults. The superintendent didn't like us doing it, he always told you to stay away from me.” Walter continued, and though James didn't remember exactly that started to sound familiar, he at least remembered his father’s scolding about something that impressed on him that it was true, so many of those berations clouded his memory that remembering anything important was difficult. 

“No, I don't think my dad would have...cared for that.” 

"Your father.” he said quietly, he seemed to be thinking that over, “yes...the two of you look alot alike hm..that makes sense…” he said, pausing to think for awhile.

“I...i do believe you.” James said eventually, truly he did, it all seemed to add up at least and he had very, very vague memories of something similar. He still had to wonder why this man was here, but sort of hoped that maybe he didn't want to hurt him seeing as he hadn't so far and seemed so nice, just confused and very likely mentally unwell. Maybe he could help him, or at least get him some kind of help.

“Thank you.” Walter nodded, he still seemed crestfallen but his face never betrayed his light smile, as though it was his default expression. Quiet for another few moments, James had put his hands down, the gun was no longer pointed at him but he still kept his distance hoping not to aggravate him. 

"Do you live here alone?" Walter asked him eventually. 

"Yes...well..no but..but lately yes…" James realized after saying this that it probably wasn't smart. 

"Is that your wife?" Walter pointed at a picture on his end table and James swallowed but answered truthfully in spite of himself. 

"Yes, she is, her name is Mary. that was...our wedding." 

"She has kind eyes." he replied, seeming oddly wistful as he stared at the photo. “You two look so happy, you can see it in your faces...” he turned back to James, making eye contact, “but now you seem so sad.”

“I…” James was baffled by his statement, what was he supposed to say to this, he guessed he was right, he hadn't bothered to look himself in the eye really, but he could notice lines in his face, notice he gained and lost weight at random, he was always tired, and every little detail in him that Mary had told him once was cute, was now a reminder that she was not here. 

"She's not in the house, you're still married though right?”

"No she's not here, she's...she's ill. She isn't strong enough to be at home. But I guess...she's not close enough to being gone that they'll let her come home." James cleared his throat and looked at the floor, there was nothing interesting, just some dirt on his shoe, and a lot of feelings trying to rear their ugly heads. He probably should've been more concerned about Walter knowing she was not here and had probably looked through the house to learn things about them, but it wasn't like it mattered all that much, unless of course he had plans to hurt Mary, then again he still hadn't hurt James. 

“I see. How long has she been ill?”

“Two...two years.”why was he saying this? Why was he telling him? He didn't know, hell this was the first person he'd talked to about it outside of his father, who he hadn’t spoken to in quite a long time. Walter was simply the first person who cared enough to ask.

"Does it hurt?" Walter asked him and it took James a moment to understand. 

"...yes, i suppose so. But, it's fine. I..i'm not the one that's sick. I'm not going to complain." 

“Suffering.” Walter stood and James instinctively flinched, James wasn't a small man by any means but Walter was at least a couple of inches taller, his overly large coat seemed to give the impression he had an even more intimidating presence. “you've been here, while your wife slowly dies.”

“I…” James didn't have an answer or excuse or whatever Walter wanted from him. He was right, James was here hiding from this, he felt the weight in his stomach, forcing him to face his misdeeds and negligence. The only person who once had loved him left to die alone. It didn't matter that she hated him now, he should be there.

“I know.” he was still staring at the floor, his eyes welling with tears, the tightness in his chest and disgust at himself stole what little voice he had. 

“Don't cry.” Walter came closer, hovering over him a mere few inches away, James tensed waiting for a reason he only vaguely recalled to hear a gun cocked and pressed into his skin. But it never came. 

“It hurts. You're in pain, she's in pain. It's not fair…” 

“No…” James kept his eyes downcast, unsure of where he was going with this.

“This world...it's unfair, it's all full of pain, needless suffering. I promise I understand that it hurts, I remember your father being cruel, I know I didn't know you that well but it's not hard to see that things were not well. i remember the men in my life being cruel, i remember so much cruelty and pain, and for you...to find something good in the world only for it to be torn away from you, how painful that must be i can't imagine.” he sounded so heartbroken for the both of them, and James didn't know how to handle that. He couldn't look at him. 

“Well it's not like she loves me anymore anyways... “ James turned and looked at the wall, forcing the tears back, “it's fine, it's not like i deserve it…” 

“Maybe so. Maybe so.” Walter nodded somberly, “I don't know how she feels. But it's still unfair. Even more so if she does hate you now.” 

“W...walter i...why are you here?” James still couldn't really look up at him. He felt as though Walter psychoanalyzing him was an insane reason to break into his house. He guessed any reason was bizarre and unjustified but even senseless murder woul make mroe sense than this.

“Oh James, I hate to have to ask you to do something for me. But I need you. I need your help, I have to reawaken my mother, and I need the help of twenty sinners. Normally I wouldn't just ask, but you James....you are special.” Walter explained in a way that was more confusing than helpful. 

“I...what? I don't understand...your mother?” James stammered, frowning and still refusing to look up but trying to parse what the hell had just been said to him.

“You have been chosen to be one of the Twenty One Sacrements, a high honor, a group of exalted and purified sinners used to cleanse the world for the arrival of the mother of God, so she may birth God. This mother, my mother needs a pure world to be reborn in. and so, sacrifice must be made.” Walter elaborated but James felt even more lost, the only thing he really understood was ‘sinner’ and ‘ sacrifice’, though he could surmise something from this nevertheless.

“I...are you going...to kill me?”

“Unfortunately i don't have a choice. However you will be reborn in paradise, the pain and purgatory will be temporary, I promise this much.”

“Why...why are you asking me? Or..or just telling me all this, Why didn't you just kill me when I walked in?” James couldn't help his slight panicked tone, he didn't know if that would be better or worse, he didn't know why Walter attempted to reunite with him, reminding him of their previous relationship, if he was just going to kill him for some strange ritual. 

“I don't know James. i’m really not sure, but i...i feel as though you're special. You're different from the other ten, not only have I met you before, you were kind to me.”

“Was i…” James didn't remember, somehow that didn't feel right but who was he to deny a memory of someone else seeing as he didn't remember it himself. Ten, ten what? Ten victims? Ten others already gone? Still this realization didn't perturb him much, he wasn't sure she believed it.

“Yes. you tried to be my friend. We were close for a little while. I don't blame you for listening to your father eventually but...i remember it all, and it was important to me.” 

“So...despite that you're going to kill me?” 

“No James, i'm going to save you.” Walter shook his head, “I want to release you from your pain, i want you to see paradise. I want you to be happy, I want you to finally get to meet my mother with me.” 

“I still...i just don't understand...and i..i don't think you can make me happy again Walter. I don't think anyone can.” James shook his head. 

“Wouldn't you like to try?” 

“I-” 

"Don't you want to feel happy again.” Walter continued, impassioned “God can make us a paradise, the Holy Mother will awaken and birth God and her people can turn to her for comfort. Suffering won't be necessary anymore. Pain will be a faint memory, illness nonexistent, death will be forgotten, real peace and kindness not a choice but all anyone knows.”

James wasn't sure what to make of anything he just said, it all sounded both insane and yet oddly comforting. He wasn't anything of a religious person he didn't know or care if God or any gods were real. He'd always found a lack of god to be somewhat comforting, that nobody was out there to antagonize him, he'd spent so much of his life being miserable it would be nice to think that it wasn't on purpose, but in his pit of loneliness the idea of less pain and misery and love perhaps he could earn was enticing. 

"Do you want paradise? You can be one of the sinners, paying for your sins here on this earth, you pay with your blood, and you're punished accordingly but, once you are clean the world will be ready for her birth. No pain, no suffering, no death, no illness, just serenity and love and happiness. My mother will care for you and everyone else…” Walter said, reverence in his gaze.

“I...i don't know but...it sounds nice.” James agreed, “well...well not the punishment..i don't know…” his head felt strange, he was somewhat confused, but what Walter was saying was so enticing, like being invited into a warm house in the blistering cold. Walter gently set his hands on James’ shoulders and though James flinched he looked at him, not making eye contact but keeping his gaze on his smiling face. It was almost some sort of trance he was held in, James didn't remember the last time he had been touched at all. 

“It does, doesn't it? I know punishment sounds upsetting, painful perhaps and sad to say more suffering is necessary to create paradise but, so quickly it is over. And you'll be helping so many other people too.” Walter continued and James thought about this in depth.

He didn't want more pain, no he was so weary after so much time carrying it but the promise that it would be over afterwards felt like a relief, like he was being allowed an out to his misery, one that wouldn't betray his facade of wanting to live. Maybe Walter was right even, maybe there was a paradise, hell he seemed to know what he was talking about, why not? And the promise that this was a selfless sacrifice was all the more enticing. What greater motivation was there than to help more people even if he'd never met them before. If this god came back and created this paradise, Mary would get better, she wouldn't be suffering anymore and maybe she would love him again, maybe those four years of sweet bliss could return. What he would give to have that back. 

Well, he decided, I'd give my life for it. 

“Will it hurt?” his voice felt so small, he had this desire to speak rather quietly when it came to Walter, somehow feeling as though it were more appropriate. 

“It will hurt, but your pain will all be worth it.” Walter whispered, assuring him, “temporary agony for eternal bliss, a pinprick in the grand scheme of things. Your wifes suffering gone, your own suffering gone, not to mention so many other people who wanted this.” 

"You...yours too?" 

"Yes. Mine as well." 

James, in a moment of weakness, a time of desperation and with his shoulders being softly held by Walter, simply nodded. Whatever happened from here, he didn't care. A part of him just wanted to curl into Walter's arms and be told of all the wonders of paradise. It sounded so nice.

“You...you're sure?”

“I promise.” the hand reaching up and caressing James’ face was the final straw that broke him. He nodded again almost in a trance and Walter’s smile seemed to grow. Walter backing away from him almost broke his heart and he watched him walk towards the other side of the room, setting the gun on the couch gently as though it were fragile. James was anxious watching him, not scared of what was going to happen next, he didn't care about that now, he was anxious for Walter to come closer again, the distance genuinely upsetting.

James watched him pick up the hammer and walk back over to him. 

\-----------  
A boy sat in front of a room, an apartment, room on the south end of a moderately sized city, room 302 in fact. He stared at the door as if expecting something, waiting for someone presumably. Never showing signs of boredom. He did not move, he barely blinked even if he could help it, he just waited, he'd been there for hours now. Waiting. 

As this boy waited for something unknown, time's arrow ticking by just as diligent as ever, Another boy made his way around the corner. He was a little older than the first one, maybe nine or so while the other was perhaps six or seven, but they looked very much alike, blonde with green eyes of varying shades, the older boy a bit chubbier with slightly overgrown hair and dirtier clothes. The younger with a neater haircut and clothes that were clean but clearly rather old.the older boy noticed and approached the other, curious, as though he'd never seen another child here.

“Hi, uhm...what are you doing?” he asked, head tilted to the side. 

"I'm waiting for my mom." the younger boy replied unflinching, keeping his eyes glued to the front door. 

"Does she live here?" The other boy asked, though he frowned, confused.

"Yes. That's what everybody tells me. I've heard her in here before. So i'm just waiting for her to come back.” 

“Oh. it's uh..it's just that..only one guy lives here i think..he's sorta old and...uhm doesn't have a wife.” 

“Well..” the other boy looked confused for a moment but then shook his head, “she's gotta be in here, she hasn't come out in a long time so...maybe you haven't seen her. I haven't.” the older boy thought about that for a moment and then nodded as it seemed to make sense to him, pausing for a moment before asking him a question. 

"What's your name?" 

"Everybody calls me Walter." The boy nodded, "I guess i don't have a real name. Not one my mom gave me anyways. What's your name?"

"James. I think my dad named me though.." 

"Do you have a mom?" 

"No. Not anymore," James shook his head, "my dad says she didn't like me so she just left one day. I don't remember her though since I was only three." 

"Do you think she'll come back?"

"Yeah. My dad says she might if I'm really good for a long time, I'm trying really hard. My dad is really sad she's gone so...i want him to be happy." James explained, and Walter nodded, in understanding. 

“I think she'll come back. My mom is gonna come out one day so..i'm sure your mom will come back for you too.” Walter nodded, seeming optimistic. James also seemed to find some comfort in this as he thought about it for a while, staring back at Walter as if he wanted to say something else. He shook his head after a moment. 

"Would- Do you wanna go play? I don't really have any toys but.."

"I can't. I gotta wait for mom." Walter shook his head. "I can't miss her." 

"Oh Well...i could wait here with you..if you want." James offered, looking nervous as though the boy would deny him this too.

"Yeah, then we can meet her together, maybe she knows where your mom is." Walter nodded enthusiastically and though James shrugged as if he wasn't sure about that, he sat down next to Walter anyways. 

A few hours passed, the two of them talking back and forth, until outside the shadows grew long and Walter pulled a small half broken toy watch out of his pocket stating he had to go back home. Promising he would come back the next week. James nodded and stood up with him and the two of them stood there stagnant for a moment before they both broke the strange trance with a mutual hug. Strange in that both boys had no real experience with this, but still the gesture didn't go unnoticed by either of them even as they both parted ways and headed back to their respective homes. A memory only one of them would retain in its entirety, but that would have an impact on both of them, even just subconsciously.

\-----------

Walter heard the crack of bone and the guttural groan of pain as James doubled over gripping his chest and gasping and now wheezing, his eyes wide in agony and fear. Walter paused watching him struggle to breathe and for a brief moment he considered stopping, but before he could think it through, the hammer was midair and connected with James’ femur, audibly snapping the bone and James crumpled to the ground. 

He was groaning trying to get himself back up at least to a sitting position. Walter did this for him, grabbing him by his hair and slamming his face into his knee, blood now flowing from his nose and lip. He took hold of the heavy end of the hammer and swung the metal handle against James. Over and over, his face, his neck, his arms, his already cracked ribs, his stomach, his legs, anywhere as the man beneath him cowered in fear. James grunted and cried out in pain every time the handle connected with his body. At one point he tossed the hammer aside and beginning to beat him with his hands, his own knuckles bruising but he didn't feel it. Only stopping when he heard James begin to choke after Walter delivered a particularly hard blow to his throat. Walter towered over him after the impulse was satisfied, James’ eyes closed in suffering, he wondered what to do with him now. He felt it would be easiest just to crush his skull. 

Irrelevant to this conclusion he moved without thinking, much as he always did, and he leaned down and pulled James’ coat off of him while dragging him to his knees. There was beauty in his bloodied and bruised face, his feeble attempts to speak heartwarmingly pathetic like a starving puppy. Walter didn't take pleasure in this but found himself mostly detached from this sort of violence, still that James wasn't fighting him despite the fact that based on just their physical strength and size they were relatively evenly matched and Walter wasn't sure what to make of it. He was cowering in fear and despite not being able to speak coherently, his eyes were begging for mercy.

Walter hefted him over his shoulder, James was quite a bit heavier than most of his other victims, and James didn't fight really, he sort of squirmed but that very well might have been from the pain in his ribs. He carried him into the bathroom, avoiding hitting James’ head on the doorframe but dropping him onto the ground abruptly, shutting the door behind him. James grunted, but didn't move again. 

Walter left him on the floor unrestrained, it wasn't like James was getting up anytime soon and even if he tried, the door was closed and his leg maimed. Walter followed the whim in his mind telling him to turn on the water in the bathtub and plug up the drain which he did. The sound of the faucet still not quite drowning out James’ pained noises. 

“Please…” James coughed, wheezing and he sounded like he was struggling with what he wanted to say, “please don't...don't hurt my wife..don't hurt..hurt Mary..”

“I won't. Not if I don't have to. I promise.'' Walter assured him, absently swirling water around in the tub with one hand. James nodded, struggling clearly with his bleeding nose and broken ribs. Walter waited listening to him try to breathe as the tub slowly filled, wondering what was going through his head, if he was thinking clearly at all. When the water graced the edge of the tub, he shut it off and stood, knowing what had to come now. 

"I am sorry. You won't like this part." Walter murmured, kneeling and then straddling his waist and pushing his shirt up to expose his badly bruised chest. James looked like he might speak again, his expression concerned, more fearful than it had been before. Walter couldn't fathom why and didn't attempt to, instead he reached into his coat pocket and retrieved a small knife, still stained with blood from using it on himself. 

"Please don't struggle too much. It won't look neat if you do. Then I'd have to do it again." Walter told him, leaning over and placing the knife point an inch or so below his collarbone. James whimpered as he pushed the blade under his skin, blood pooling to the surface and trickling down with gravity as Walter dragged the blade towards himself, creating what only looked to be a long, deep wound but that he knew was the number one. He pulled the blade out, and right next to the one, began the process of carving a new number. This one more challenging to do, more than just one straight line now and James was whimpering and twitching. Walter continued with the next number and then the next, James becoming more distressed as time went on but he couldn't pay attention to that, reciting scripture to himself so he could focus, and the numbers would be visible. 

12121  
12/21

He was finished. James' chest was smeared with his own blood as was Walter's hands, but he was finished. If James had been whimpering before, he was crying now, and shaking probably scared out of his mind, but this wasn't enough bloodshed to kill him. James didn't seem that healthy but he was a large, relatively young man, probably only twenty seven or twenty eight. He could survive. 

Walter sat James up,the other man now in even more pain than before, blood dripping to the linoleum floor and staining the rug there. Walter was supporting his weight as he dragged him closer to the tub, placing him on his knees and positioning him bent over the edge of it as though he were going to vomit into it. Honestly he might, Walter had seen it before after inflicting a certain amount of pain. Walter held onto him, one arm wrapped tenderly around his middle and the other caressing his hair and bloodied jaw. 

“Walter...walter i don't want to die..” James whispered before Walter had a chance to speak again, he seemed to have worked up all of his energy to plead and beg for his life.. 

“Shh it's ok.”

“please ...please i don't want to die…” James sounded like he was in tears, his body shaking more, “Walter don't...don't kill me…i don't..i don't want to die anymore…please. I'm sorry..” 

“Don't cry. It won't hurt for very long. Trust me.” Walter whispered and gently kissed his cheek, grabbing his hair just after, “thank you for doing this for me. I hope mom will take care of you until i can see the two of you again.” 

"Please Walter...i'm sorry.." 

He forced James’ head under the water, and James choked silently and his body jerked against Walter's grip, as was to be expected even from the most willing of participants. Cold water sloshed over the edge of the bath. He pressed his body closer, James was pinned hard against the tub, and he wasn't strong enough to fight Walter off of him. The choking gurgling noises unsettled Walter somewhat, this felt so much worse than killing someone like Jimmy Stone, James must be in pain, and even unlike when he killed the children, Walter now remembered dying. He started humming, gently, not even one particular song or melody, just something to soothe the both of them, assuming James could hear it. Though he very likely couldn't. His grip on James slipped lightly because of the blood coating his chest from the numbers carved there, the unnaturally cold water numbing his hands and how much James was fighting. Maybe he didn't want to die. 

But it was too late to turn back now.

Minutes came and went, James struggling harder and then clearly weakening. Jerking and still fighting so hard but he wasn't able to win. He was doomed from the time that hammer hit him. Walter got the impression James knew that even in his fear. 

He stopped moving at one point but Walter knew better than to immediately pull him out, or even loosen his grip all that much. Very likely he'd just fallen unconscious and not actually died. But after several quiet minutes he pulled him away, trying to see if he was breathing ,he wasn't, or if there was a pulse. Nothing. 

Unlike every time before, Walter sat quietly, holding his still partially warm body close. The glassy eyes staring up at the ceiling were once a very vibrant green, and now they were dull, looking almost fake. It was almost surreal, killing before was one thing, there was malice, hatred, indifference, or an all encompassing pull even when he didn't want to do so. But this time, it wasn't that he didn't want to kill James per say, but more that he wanted to save him. He didn't want him to sit and suffer, he felt an unshakable heartbreak in his eyes and wanted to fix it. A man broken down so much he didn't see a future, and his final moments marred with indescribable suffering. Walter knew this more than intimately, having lived it himself. 

Still, Clutching the stiffening corpse did no good. His mother was waiting, and much as he had his doubts it better to squash them so as not to disappoint her. He couldn't let go of her now.

"You wouldn't want her to leave you again right?" His own voice startled him as he said it outloud even if it wasn't his thoughts, it wasn't him saying it, taunting him. 

“No. No i don't.” he whispered aloud, “he...he’ll be with us, me, him, Alessa, and Mom and we can all be together, really soon.” Walter leaned over the body and closed James’ eyes, and softly kissed his cold lips.

"We’ll have so much fun again James. We can play in the apartments just like we used to." Walter stood, crouching down and lifting James off the floor, ever as gently as he could, placing him in the tub, and submerging his head underwater, ignoring the displacement of it spilling all over his shoes and coat. He was already so cold and wet it didn't matter. James looked mostly peaceful, as though he were just having a mildly unpleasant dream. The splashing from before already had cleaned him of a lot of the blood on his face, and only the bruises really showed through the water. Walter looked at him for a few minutes more, wondering who would tell his wife of what had become of him, wondering how long it would take somebody to find his body. He could sit here until he saw it all unfold himself, but as he turned away there was a finality in the closed door. James Sunderland was dead. 

It was time to go. 

12/21

His mother was closer than ever.


End file.
